Category: Portraiture

Tell me, what do you really see…?

You can think of this post as part 2 of my previous one from about a week ago, Get Closer…but then again, what follows could be superfluous. Maybe. Each day our routines bring us across many familiar and common objects. Most of what we see barely catches our attention. A lot falls under the category of habitual repetition. However, if you put that aside, the what you see notion can change things.
Anyway, regardless of which direction you’d be walking, you can’t miss the humongous rock, pictured above, resting next to a dirt road.
On a 1:1 scale, the size of this layered wonder from the Ice Age is massive. Around it and along the road, various homes stand proud against the various inclines, each perhaps possessing an immunity to gravity. Most of these homes have been around for generations.

“Follow the road up to the top. The vista is spectacular and you’re likely to get some good photos. Look for Pebble Rock Hill Road and keep an eye out for an unusual pebble.” Pebble’s eponymous road invites travelers to head to the top. Of course while on route, I had to stop to examine that “pebble” leaning into the hill.
I’m reminded of Jonathan Swift’s timeless novel, Gulliver’s Travels. In his travels, our protagonist arrives at Lilliput where all its inhabitants–are quite small–whereas Gulliver is a giant. This timeless tome may not be a summer beach read, but the arc of the novel deals with the vagaries of politics, the human condition, scatological humor and so forth. BTW, the first and only time I heard the word “scatological” was during my high-school sophomore class in English Literature. Go figure, and go Google it. The novel was first published in 1726.

Yes, this large home has a “stream” running beneath it. A natural source for white-noise to help the household sleep, perhaps?

Close to 300 years later, I’m certain Mr. Swift would have asked the same question of us: tell me, what do you really see…? There are times when I’m so immersed with what’s in front of me that when the camera comes up, I’m [figuratively] within the frame, scanning everything in the viewfinder.
Where’s the photo? Why am I taking a photo? What do I feel? What do I see if anything other than the obvious? Is it worth it?

Back in the days of film, most of us were pretty frugal with the number of frames we took of any subject let alone everything else. There were no preview screens to check on what you and the camera were looking at. Polaroid cameras were the analog version of confirming a shot. Today, however, it seems that others have already introduced their own Polaroid type-instant films.
When I developed my B&W films, the process felt rote at times, but when the timer was close to the end, my feelings changed to ones of anticipation, expectation and doubt.
It’s different today, obviously, but waiting and expecting to see B&W negatives had an aura all its own. Time gained additional significance because each frame was but one slice of a moment.
Digital capture can take the same slice of time, but it also offers instantaneous validation and the opportunity to take a good a number of retakes, each being instantly accessible to view. Picture taking has certainly evolved; I know many who have a boatload of jpegs on their mobile phones and tablets. A lot.
There’s some truth about the way film cameras slow down the picture-taking process; and for a group of film devotees, you could say it does something similar to some of our behaviors.

Sunset
Same location on the same day just minutes after the photo above….
Done for the day, Mother Liberty eyes the loading/unloading cranes at rest.

Sunsets and sunrises have been with us time immemorial. With or without a camera, they fascinate us. It’s all about the light and the way it changes–and rather quickly–to the familiar sunny or cloudy sky. The sky then becomes its usual self, an unevern canvas of grey or light grey with that hint of white. All of those visual details make it beautiful: a clear sky, dramatic skies, a storm or front already heading our way, along with whatever feelings that may surface to shape our visceral self.
Here’s to all our moments in our 24-hour lives, and to the details we discover that adds something to the way we see things.

When Nostalgia Visits

James Cain

I started out in search of ordinary things
How much of a tree bends in the wind
I started telling the story without knowing the end
I used to be darker, then I got lighter, then I got dark again
Something too big to be seen was passing over and over me
Well, it seemed like a routine case at first
With the death of the shadow came a lightness of verse
But the darkest of nights, in truth, still dazzles
And I work myself until I’m frazzled
I ended up in search of ordinary things
Like how can a wave possibly be?
I started running, and the concrete turned to sand
I started running, and things didn’t pan out as planned
In case things go poorly and I not return
Remember the good things I’ve done
In case things go poorly and I not return
Remember the good things I’ve done
Oh, oh, oh, oh-oh
Done me in
copyright Bill Callahan from the album, Sometimes I Wish We were an Eagle.

I’m told that feelings of nostalgia can be dangerous, dangerous in the sense that you can lose yourself enough to miss out on being in the moment. Possibly true, but in an attempt to put balance into my thinking here, I’d like to think that whatever and whenever nostalgia or recollections unapologetically come to mind—whether good, bad or ugly—I can use them to better appreciate what being in the moment means.

The lyrics to Bill Callahan‘s song, Jim Cain, never fails to stir something in me. Jim Cain was an American novelist, an author often referred to as the archetype of “hard-boiled novels.” Three of Cain’s novels found its way to the screen, each receiving critical acclaim: Double Indemnity, Mildred Pierce and The Postman Always Rings Twice.

The eponymous song is haunting yet contains elements or conditions which feel relevant. I make no claim to be an expert on Mr. Cain’s life or his work, and yet every time I listen to this specific song, sensations of deja vu slip in. Mr. Callahan’s style, his sound is wholly unique [IMHO], and indeed that character of voice and music composition reinforces key feelings in my ephemeral journey of 4 minutes, 39 seconds .

Several verses strike a chord [pun intended], however three lines ping my empathetic sensors:

I started running, and things didn’t pan out as planned
In case things go poorly and I not return
Remember the good things I’ve done

The photos in this gallery reach back 4 decades to a time that will always mean much to my personal and professional journeys. I’m convinced that most of us are running—some more determined than others—hoping to optimize careers, relationships, and of course, one’s sense of self. And yet in spite of shortcomings that can toss us off the saddle, we get up, and with additional effort we manage to return to the point where we stumbled. We carry on as we must.

When I look at these photos in the company of the music and lyrics of the aformentioned song, I recall the people, events and lessons which remain relevant. I’m reminded that many things in life are good and that some of that good is actually a product of my own doing or in collaboration with someone else or those in a group. Why reflect on the banal, the unpleasant, the incorrigible, among other soul-dampening sentiments? Because without them, you achieve little balance to various positives that fate hands you. Indeed there are plenty of those ill-feelings to weigh down our resolve to do better, day in-day out. Think back to an event ,a person, a vicissitude if you will, that later proved to be a turning point which led you to where you are now, or perhaps pushes you to finish a journey still in progress.

There are some years that snap and engage your entirety as a person, because it clarifies statements such as, “yup, been there, done that” to any number of realizations, each based on a chance or intention: “Yeah…that was stupid…and I’m not doing that again!” Over the years, we hear reprimands from parents, teachers and coaches, even our peers, which we in turn offer to our own children. I’d like to think that most reprimands are lessons filled with hope and expectation. We hope our young charges “get the message.”

To open archives of a time long ago produces a reawakening of feeling, dissonant and concordant. It all depends on context. My cohorts line up alongside nostalgia, in ways that yes, brings up yearning but also that understanding of, “I don’t think I would’ve made it this far if it weren’t for _________.” That blank line between “for” and the “.” has possibilities. For me, the ones I’ve chosen were life-changing. The elements of personalities, a moment in time–and especially at a specific point–are sealed. They are irrevocable and part of me.

Clearly on many levels, I am a better person because of such experiences. Throughout life, we move forward and as people and events become things of the past, of things which somehow shaped you, regardless of where you are and with plans you’ve made, you certainly have done good things worth remembering.

Attentive to Details

When it comes to recognizing things or acknowledging details from “the big picture,” several expressions come to mind, such as “….I couldn’t see the forest for the trees…..the devil is in the details.” My typical reaction after further scrutiny goes along the line of, “….oh, yeah, well…if it was a bear, it would’ve bit me…” Granted, through some Jumanji-esque manifestation, I would undoubtedly be covered with bite marks.

For me, nothing draws more attention than an infant. They change right before your eyes. Case in point: my granddaughter you see above, is all of one week young, and yet in the past several days, she has changed with little fanfare. Other times I marvel at her physical development. All of sudden, fingernails have grown, her eyelashes are longer and her eyes are clearer and probably tracking motion. Before too long, her onesies, and probably diapers too, will have to go up in size.

It’s a single-seat, wobbly merry-go-round.

From a distance, the spinning wheel looks like a badly installed table top for pre-schoolers. No, I didn’t demo this playground-attraction. For fearless children who repeatedly spin themselves silly, the attraction delivers. With dizziness in full force, a smile of wonder and novelty appear. Not surprisingly, none of the kids I saw walked straight and narrow upon getting off the spinner. Think wobbly and crooked on any given stride. It’s enough to make you nauseous just watching them weave across the playground.

When you’re 25 floors above the street, strapped into a harness, wobbly doesn’t fit into the picture. I’ve seen these pros accomplish their tasks on breezy days, certainly when the weather is warmer than it is now. The color yellow stood out in large part because it was bright and the rest of the scene—originally in color—looked monochromatic. I also learned that 2-3 drops of dishwashing fluid into warm water makes for a thorough glass cleaner. There’s a detail worth noting…

Wandering towards warmth

It’s at this time of year when I hear longings for warmer weather. From workers in the office building–a lot while in the elevator–to family and friends, I hear wanting cries and wishes for winter to end. February is akin to that last push toward a finish line; it’s a test of emotional endurance because you’ve made it this far yet there’s still a distance to go. When will this end? Let’s finish winter and get on with spring. Polar vortex aside, I’m still enjoying winter. However with daylight piling on, it’s not difficult to think about spring.

In no uncertain terms, sunny, warmer weather puts people in a better mood, especially during those first few days. What’s not to like? You get more vitamin D. The air feels gentler. The sky appears friendlier. The pace of life is calmer. The sounds and sights of life are no longer insulated: laughter, more people outdoors, car windows open, music escapes from said windows, smiles appear from once stoic, resigned faces and of course, fashion turns lighter as puffy, padded, heavy and scratchy attire is relegated to dry cleaning, the cedar chest or some other domestic sarcophagus to be opened later in the year.

Many of us in New England are already wandering toward and wondering about the warmth. For now, we can still huddle in our coats, don an extra layer, warm ourselves with a mug of Hot Toddy and make the best of things next to the fireplace or wood stove.

Across the Crossing

Personal photography, the kind that takes you out and about, is often a solitary process. For many photographers that’s often the case. The image above is one of my [new] favorites in the category of “street photography.” For me it’s more accurate to call it “wandering photography.”

I typically have no mission or subject matter in mind. I essentially chase the light regardless of whether it’s on a city street or a country road.

Light, texture and shadow tug on me, asking me to stop and consider the possibility just before I press the shutter. You may not see what I see when I come across a play between light and textures. However, what you see and feel matters just as much.

In the First Person

Hancock Shaker Village recently held the first of 4 dinners involving noted thinkers and authors.  The Food for Thought program involves a monthly dinner May thru August, and invites folks to “feed your mind, body and soul…with an illuminating author.” The first dinner quickly sold out as 76 signed on to chat and dine with former Massachusetts governor, Deval Patrick. Within an ambiance shaped by the Shakers [who established this Village in the 1700s] the evening proved intimate, friendly, and grounded. In light of our current political climate, I suppose anything could’ve happened regarding a discussion of Mr. Patrick’s life politique; politics has been a lightning rod of recent times, as we all know, attracting more negativity to the point of consternation and frustration.

That wasn’t the case here. Instead, I was reminded of the importance, indeed the significance, of seeing things in person and to hear experiences in the first person.  We are so immersed, so much more involved with our digital devices that I think we’ve lost touch on how to converse with verve, clarity, honesty, expression, sensitivity, empathy, integrity, patience, consideration, reciprocity and more.  It’s a sad state of affairs and while this is a gross generalization, therein lies a truism in my previous sentence: many of us spend too much precious time eyeball-to-eyeball, hand-to-hand with a keyboard, a touch screen and/or ear buds.

In this setting, we conversed with Mr. Patrick and listened to what he had to say. He was genuine and unpretentious in his greetings with old friends and in acknowledging the company of new faces. In a space that consisted of movers and shakers and critical thinkers from the Berkshires and beyond, it would’ve been all too easy to spot someone posturing. No, we all possessed a quality common to each in that room regardless of social or professional standing. We were–and still are–sentient beings, vessels filled with doubts about freedom of speech, decorum, political bipartisanship, populism, nationalism, etcetera ad nauseum.

Yes, having access to commentary and perspective through YouTube, Vimeo, Aeon, TED Talks and others is timely, convenient and important, but I, personally, feel that being there, of  being part of the gathering, is a different experience from those encountered online. When you’re surrounded by the event, you are indeed, part of the event. Many things become visceral and palpable, vulnerable and accessible, sensuous and profound. And while many communications can be paused or saved or added-to-my-view list, I’m reminded that with such gatherings, Life has no pause or rewind buttons. You are in the moment, beguiling a terrific gathering albeit brief.